Who Wars
by Loopstagirl
Summary: A Doctor Who/Star Wars mash-up. The Doctor receives a cryptic clue from a – seemingly familiar – floating head, which leads him on an adventure he may, or may not, want to forget… Collab with PirateMoose
1. Chapter 1

**WHO****WARS**

_**Title:**_Who Wars

_**Summary:**_ A Doctor Who/Star Wars mash-up. The Doctor receives a cryptic clue from a – seemingly familiar – floating head, which leads him on an adventure he may, or may not, want to forget…

_**Disclaimer:**_We own neither Doctor Who, nor Star Wars [nor any of the other random references, for that matter]. We pleaded with Auntie Beeb and Uncle Lucas, honest we did, but they refused to share. So we're just borrowing them for a while and might… _might_… give them back. That is, if they ask nicely…

_**Warning:**_Some serious, serious, _serious_ artistic licence has been taken with this story line – historical accuracy has been temporarily banished to the Lost Moon of Poosh. So no complaining…! Seriously, this is a complete parody, don't tell us we are not being accurate-WE KNOW!

_**A/N:**_ Written for a very special geeky teacher, by her equally geeky students! *grin*

A collaboration between me and PirateMoose!

Virtual cookies if you can identify the various added references – some may be more obvious than others! Enjoy!

"O_nce upon a time_… Nah, too boring." The suited man slammed the book shut and chucked it over his shoulder, causing puffs of grey dust to swirl from its yellowing pages. Reaching up on his tip-toes and sticking his tongue out in concentration, he pulled another from the shelf.

"_In a galaxy far, far away…_ Aha, now that's more like it!"

*****

_THUD. VWROOOP. BANG. VWROOOP_

"Righty-ho… tracker on… lever pulled… push this button here…" _BANG!_ "Oops. Maybe not _that_ button."

Smacking the random flashing light with a mallet, the Doctor danced around the complex machinery gleefully, occasionally giving it another smack for good measure. The shuddering, beginning as a small tremor, became harder and harder, eventually throwing him from his precarious perch flat on his back. As suddenly as everything had begun, the machine fell silent, soft blue light emitting from its core. Climbing to his feet with a shout of laughter, the figure crossed over to the centre, gently patting the controls as he did so.

"So," he began, trying to decipher the readings on a small screen. "Where you taken me this time, ole' girl? Death Star… what kind of name is that? Oh well, lets go see."

Fiddling absentmindedly with the controls in front of him, the man first twisted a knob one way, pushed a button over there, then pulled the lever in front of him sharply downwards. Peering once more at the screen, a frown crossed his handsome face. Squinting up his eyes and tilting his head to one side to get a better view, the Doctor paused, then tilted his head the other way to try and establish a better picture of what he was seeing. Tapping at the glass with his forefinger, he eventually worked out what it was looking back at him… but that made no sense whatsoever.

"What?" he muttered softly to himself, fiddling around in his pocket, searching for something. As his hand closed around the comforting weight of his favourite gadget, he spun around to face the reflection.

"What?!" Facing him, a tangy coloured robot stood before him, gun raised and pointed directly at the completely flabbergasted man.

"Roger, roger."

"WHAT?!" Fingers scrabbling, his hand shot out of his pocket, the screwdriver resting in his palm.

"Setting… setting… which setting was it? 2010? Exactamondo, 2010!" With his joyful exclamation, the Doctor hastily twisted the device, almost dropping it in surprise as an emerald green blade swished speedily out of the end with a _juuummm_. Eyebrows disappearing into his hair line, a sudden clanking noise made the Doctor look up from the hypnotising colour just in time to see a head slowly clunk to the floor, rolling to a stop at his feet. Very slowly, the droid crumpled, the gun hitting the floor with a bang.

"Oops."

Deactivating the sonic screwdriver, the Doctor dropped it back in his pocket and stood over the remains of the droid, bewildered. And, being a Timelord of 900 years, bewilderment was not an emotion he was used too, nor, quite frankly, did he like. Stepping over the fragments of metal, the man reached the door of the TARDIS and, reaching out for the handle, he stopped suddenly. He patted his jacket frantically.

"Keys… keys… I _so _need a dish by the door for them, ahh, there they are." Grabbing the keys and throwing them into his pocket – he would never remember which – the Timelord stepped out of the door.

The first thing to draw his attention was a most peculiar noise, almost like a wheezy breath. Not seeing anyone around, the Doctor frowned up at his TARDIS.

"It wasn't _that _far! No need to get all out of breath on me now."

Bemused, the Doctor smiled, digging his hands into his trousers pockets and causing his long coat to flap out behind him. Whistling to himself, he spun around, one leg flicking to the side as he did so, and found himself face to face with a menacing black figure. Or rather, face to chest. The thing in front of him was enormous!

"Hello! Who are you then? I'm the Doctor." His broad grin fell into a frown when his cheery greeting was met with heavy breathing. "Ohhh, so _you're_ the asthmatic one…?"

A large, gloved arm extended towards him. "Aww, there we go," he reached out his own arm to shake it but suddenly found himself a few metres back from where he had just stood. "Ooo, _that_ was interesting…!" He took out his geek-chic specs from his top jacket pocket and slipped them on, bounding over to the statuesque figure for a closer look. He peered up at the helmeted face, "Ohhh, you beauty! Look at the craftsmanship of that! I haven't seen something as… argh!" The Doctor found himself cut short as an invisible hand squeezed around his neck, and lifted him clean off the ground.

"Oh… come on… play nicely…" he gasped, finding it really quite difficult to breathe. He surreptitiously slipped a hand into his jacket, fumbling for a setting on the screwdriver. He may have two hearts but he only has one throat – and a very nice one at that, even if he did say so himself. He didn't want to die now; he had places to go, people to see, queens to marry…

Then seemingly out of the blue, the TARDIS phone started to ring. The Doctor gestured his head towards it, "Mind if… I get that?"

Heavy breathing.

"I'll take that… as a yes…" Awkwardly he managed to turn around and grab the receiver from behind the little wooden panel. He cautiously held it up to his ear. "Helllllooo?"

He held the receiver out and covered the bottom half with his free hand, whispering: "It's for you!"

The helmet tilted in slight confusion and, after a pause, took the phone. The Doctor's über-red converses gratefully touched the ground again. Phew.

"Allons-y!" he waved, and sprinted down the squeaky-clean corridor. Maybe this was a hospital? Just before he skidded around the corner, he dug into his pockets – of course, _much_ bigger on the inside – for the set of keys. Finding the shiniest black one on the ring, he aimed it at the TARDIS and clicked the big yellow button… _beepbeep_. He grinned at the mystery figure, who was now even more confused than before, "Security. You know, just in case!" He shrugged. "See ya!"

Darth Vader looked from the Doctor to the phone, from the phone to the Doctor. Strange morning. He'd only stepped out to see where his morning coffee had got to…

Seven minutes later, the Doctor was still running. Why did he always do so much running?! Ah well, good for the hearts. He really wasn't sure where he was going, but then again, did he ever?

"Doctooor…"

Ok, that had got his attention. He slid to a halt and pricked up his ears.

Nothing.

"Hmmm," he said to no-one in particular. "That was odd-"

"Doctooor…"

_Shroom_. A door to his left rose up automatically and the Doctor – ever the risk taker – entered cautiously. He probably _should _have learnt his lesson about following creepy-sounding voices, but he always tried to remain optimistic.

It was dark inside except from an ominous green glow coming from a tank at its centre. The Doctor approached it with familiarity, "Boe?"

As he moved around the coppery machine, carefully stepping over the spreading puddle of sticky-goo, the living contents of the ancient tank emerged from the darkness.

"Ohh," the Doctor crouched down and placed a hand against the glass. "Oh, the Face of Boe! It's so nice to see you! I must say, you're looking a bit different today, old friend…"

"No. Yoe."

"Huh? Boe?"

"No Boe. Yoe."

"Oh. Yoe. No Boe?"

"Hmmm?"

"Jadoon…?"

"No. Yoe."

"Ohhh," he sighed, "let's quit this while we're ahead." A pause. "Oh, ah, sorry," he winced as his tactlessness, slowly standing up to examine the giant encased head. It can't have been comfortable for his large pointy ears to be squashed against the side of the tank like that. He wondered how long he'd been like that – he was awfully wrinkly, not to mention a little green. The Doctor himself had once looked like that after falling asleep in the Roman baths… he was sure Caeser had slipped something into his wine, or maybe he had simply drunk too much. He couldn't really remember…

"Soooo, the Face of Yoe, eh?" He put his hands in his trench-coat pocket and spun on his heels. "Yoe, Yoe, Yoda, Yoe." He glanced over his shoulder and gave a trade-mark eyebrow raise. "No relation to the Face of _Boe_ then, I take it."

"Boe, I know not. Face of Yoe, am I."

"Pleased to meet you. Sorry for the mix up…"

"Deliver a message, I must. Of great importance."

"If it's 'You are not alone' then I've heard that one already." His expression darkened. "It didn't end well."

"Alone, you are not. Find Luke an-"

"Freeze!" The Doctor spun around to see a silhouette emerge from the shadows. "Who gave you authorisation to communicate with the prisoners?"

"Oh, uh, authorisation. Yes." He produced a little leather wallet and flashed it to the armed man. He was dressed head-to-toe in white – completely opposite to the figure he had encountered earlier – carried a large, (almost comic), gun and wore a helmet. The Doctor was starting to feel left out. He wanted a helmet too…

"Sorry, Sir. Please accept my apologies. I was not informed of your arrival."

"Aww, that's all right, Stig." He looked at his trusty Psychic Paper and wondered what it had said. Ah well, best to play along. "Well, if you don't mind, I was having a conversation…"

"Yes, Sir." He bowed and exited the room, leaving the Doctor alone with Yoe once more.

"Right, that's him gone. What were you saying…?" His shoulders dropped when he received no response.

Crosses instead of eyes. That can't be good.

"No, no, no! You can't die! Not now!" He ran around to the back of the machine and whipped out his sonic screwdriver. The blue light pulsed brightly in the darkness. Nope, there was nothing he could do.

Yoe was gone.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Then he remembered. "Oh, the message. Ah. What did you say? Look…?"

"Luke! Come'on!"

"Huh?!" He palm met his forehead. "Oh, Luke!" Hang on a second. Who had said that? He ran over to the door, impatiently hopping from one foot to the other as he waited for it to rise. He ducked under and just caught a glimpse of a figure disappearing around the corner. He began to chase after it – again with the running?! – but was faced with a T-junction corridor. Should he turn left or right? His head shook from side to side as he weighed up his options.

He took a chance and turned right. After all, where could you possibly go wrong from turning right…?

By now, the Doctor really had no idea where he was. At least the TARDIS had signposts.

The TARDIS. Oops. Where had he left her? Maybe he should install a homing device… Lost in his train of thought, the Doctor – not noticing the change of surroundings – found himself skidding to a stop, rather too suddenly for his liking. He stared around him in confusion, looking for the reason behind his unexpected halt. Glancing down towards his mid-drift, the Timelord sprung back, horror and fear pumping through his veins.

"It can't be… but… that's impossible!"

"Hello," something in front of him said, "I am…"

"A Futuristic Cyberman? I have to say, this new model is a much better upgrade than the last – the earmuff look never did work for me." Striding forward, the Doctor sharply rapped his knuckles on the gleaming head, trying not to wince as they collided with the cold metal. Shaking his hand out, the Doctor's eyes then fell on the smaller companion beside the first "And… a Dalek as well? And I was having such a good day!"

Tilting his head to the side, the Doctor paused. "Hmm…" They seemed to be just as confused as him. "Maybe not…Who _are _you?"

"I am C3P0, human-cyborg relations. And this is my counterpart, R2D2."

"Oh." With a sudden flash of his infectious smile, the Doctor continued, "I'm the Doctor."

Before the droid in front of him – whom by this point the Doctor had decided couldn't possibly be a Cyberman as he hadn't yet mentioned the word 'Delete' – could respond, a third voice entered their conversation. Glancing around him in surprise, his eyes eventually fell on the small communicator grasped in the droid's golden hand.

"3P0? Come in, 3P0. Where are you?"

"Master Luke. We have met a man who claims to be called the Doctor."

"Luke?" The Doctor repeated to himself, frowning softly. The smaller of the two droids let out a sudden series of shrill beeps, causing the first to look down on him.

"Don't tell me to hurry up, you worthless piece of tin," 3P0 exclaimed in response, bringinh his hand sharply down on R2's head, causing him to whir in indignation.

"Stay there, 3P0, we'll come and find you."

"Who's coming?" the Doctor asked his new companions, now completely bewildered about who was who, and where.

"Master Luke, of course, and Mistress Leia. And that _dreadful_ pilot…"

Before the droid could finish his sentence, three figures came sprinting into the hanger from the far end, one of them quite obviously carrying a gun.

"Just like any other planet," the Doctor grumbled to himself, ignoring the looks he was receiving from C3P0.

"Stay right there," the man with the gun shouted as all three drew near, aiming the blaster straight at the Doctor.

"Tell me what you want with those droids," the younger man demanded, quite bizarrely waving his hand in the air.

"Er…nothing?" the Doctor responded, bemused. Before they could answer, a steady rhythm of marching feet could be heard, heading straight towards the hanger they were in. Judging by the looks the humans (or at least, that's what the Doctor _supposed _they were) were shooting at each other, this was not good news. And bad news often only meant one thing: more running.

"I'll hold them off," the first man said, waving his blaster in the air. Both the Doctor and the female newcomer rolled their eyes at his obvious arrogance.

"You'll get yourself killed. If we run, we can make it to the Falcon before they reach us." At her advice, the trio – along with their droids – began running back the way they had come, leaving the Doctor standing on his own in the middle of the hanger. Unsure of whether to follow them or not, he glanced around just in time to see a door at the far end open and hundreds of figures clad in white spill into the room. All of their blasters raised simultaneously at the man in the middle.

"Freeze!"

"Now I _really _want a helmet. Wait for me!" Sprinting after the retreating backs, the Doctor caught a glimpse as the party disappeared through a ship door. Tracing their steps up a metal-grated ramp, the Doctor found himself faced with a rapidly closing door. Throwing himself under and rolling through the gap, the Doctor heard a clatter as the screwdriver left his pocket. Reaching out, he managed to grab his favourite gadget with just a millisecond to spare.

He looked up from his awkward position to meet the narrowed eyes of Han Solo.

"I could have done that with _minutes_ to spare," he huffed and turned to walk off, but a firm hand stopped him.

"Wait," said Luke, suspicion rising in his voice. "Who _are_ you?"

"Ahhh, I thought you'd ask that. Welll," the Doctor said, pulling a small leather wallet from his pocket and flicking it open. _I'm whoever the psychic paper tells you I am… _he added mentally.

The three confused faces drew closer as they examined the blank page…

Leia:

_Dashingly handsome and available. _

Han:

_Best star-fighter in the galaxy_

Luke:

…

The young blond, a frown settled on his pale features, took a step forward. "You can't play mind tricks with me! Now tell us," his hand reached for a silver buttoned tube attached to his waistband. He repeated himself demandingly, "Who _are_ you?"

The Doctor's eyes widened excitedly, as a green light j_uuummm-_ed into his vision. "Ooo! I have one of those! Look!" He whipped out the sonic screwdriver and won a round of _'Ooooooo_s' from Luke, Leia and the droids.

Leia eyed it up admiringly; comparing the new-age, sleek design with Luke's clunky pipe. "Now _that's _more like it…!"

Han rolled his eyes, "Oh, brother…"

"I know what you are."

"Say it," the Doctor prompted, eyebrows raised quizzically. "Say it out loud."

"Jedi Master," Luke replied, looking at the new arrival with an expression of suspicion, confusion and a splash of jealousy.

"Ohhhh, yep! That's me! Jedi Master… er… Doctor," he finished lamely.

"Never heard of you," cut in Han, only to receive a punch on the arm from Leia. She muttered something about him being rude, then turned her attention to the suited man, eyelashes fluttering like there's no tomorrow.

"So that's what he meant by 'You are not alone…'"

"Boe…" the Doctor murmured to no one in particular.

"No. Yoe."

"Ohh, _please_ don't start that again!"

"Look, we really should be going," Leia grabbed the Doctor's hand, pulled him to his feet and began dragging him towards the cockpit, her face beaming. "You're riding up front with us!"

Luke and Han were left in their wake, mouths hanging open in utter disbelief.

Not protesting in the slightest as he was almost forcibly dragged into the cockpit, the Doctor let a low whistle of approval slide through his lips. The ship was obviously state of the art. Whipping out his specs once more, the Doctor balanced them on the edge of his nose as he slowly began to circle the interior, drinking in every inch of her craftsmanship.

"Very Spock," he commented out loud, not really expecting anyone to actually pay attention.

"And the fastest ship in the galaxy," Han Solo commented, striding with an arrogant confidence into the cockpit and swinging himself with ease into the pilot's seat. Luke slipped past the Doctor, shooting him a look of apology mingled with respect as he slid into the second seat up at the front. With a flick of a switch, the pilot smoothly let the ship gain a little altitude as he skilfully swung her around. Give the man some credit, the Doctor couldn't help but grudgingly admit he did indeed know how to handle his craft. It reminded him of a time long ago when the TARDIS used to handle as smoothly as this. That is, before she developed her lovable way of _throwing_ him to his destination. Uh oh… the TARDIS! As the Falcon shot gracefully out of a small opening and catapulted into space, the Doctor jumped to his feet, causing Han to start in surprise and jolt the ship rather violently.

"No, wait! We can't take off! My ship's still down there!"


	2. Chapter 2

"No, wait! We can't take off! My ship's still down there!"

"Too late, buddy, you should have thought of that before you followed us here…"

"Ignore him," waved Leia. "He's always like that!"

"Am not!"

"Ohh, you _sooo_ are…!"

"Please, go back. I have to get to her."

"Go back?" Han cried, spinning in his seat to face the Doctor, his expression one of disbelief. "We were never meant to go there in the first place. If it wasn't for that damn tractor beam…"

"We can't go back," Luke butted in gently, stopping Han on his latest tirade. "Han is right; we've only just got away. We are risking too much by returning. Surely as a Jedi master, you wouldn't have formed an attachment…?"

"But-," the Doctor bit his lip, gazing out of the screen in front of him into the endless stretch of space. "I need her. You're a pilot, Han. Would you not go back for your ship?"

The pilot frowned, as if seriously considering the Doctor's line of thought, but before he could reach a conclusion, Leia gasped.

"Star fighters, three o'clock. Five of them."

"Here's hoping Chewie fixed that hyperdrive." Jerking the stick in front of him, Han sent the Falcon spiralling down, sending the Doctor flying in the process. Grasping Luke's helping hand gratefully, the Time Lord pulled himself to his feet, no longer sure where the ceiling and floor were in comparison to one another. Smoothing out her course, the trio didn't relax their tense posture for quite some time, obviously scouting the immediate area for any danger. When no one made any attempt to break the silence, the Doctor figured he may as well do the honours. Before he could open his mouth, a large and very heavy hand clamped its self down on his shoulder, making him yell out in utter surprise. A loud noise – best described as a croaky roar – emitted from behind him, causing the Doctor to spin around and find himself looking up at (what looked suspiciously like) a walking carpet.

"What do you mean, we can't get into hyperspace?! It may have escaped your attention, fuzz ball, but we have five star fighters after us!"

Assuming from the responding roar that Han could understand the creature behind him, the Doctor sighed.

"If I can't have the TARDIS translating for me, could someone at least give me a babel fish, please?"

"A what?" Leia asked curiously, but the Doctor was too busy gazing in awe at the large hairy creature in front of him to answer.

"He's a Wookie," Han replied irritably, as if annoyed by the fact his friend was getting more attention than he. As the Wookie responded, the pilot suddenly frowned, clearly agitated.

"No I am _not _jealous of _him_. What is there to be jealous of? … What?! … His gorgeous good looks and obvious charm? What is wrong with you, fuzz ball?"

"If you two will stop arguing, you may want to notice those fighters have found us. We need to get out of space; we are sitting ducks here!"

"How about here?" Luke asked suddenly, his finger tapping some unknown destination on the monitor in front of him. Dancing across the ship, the Doctor hurried over, anxious to see for himself where they were. He never liked to be the last to know, _especially_ when it came to running away.

"Endor?" Leia pondered thoughtfully. "Doesn't the Alliance have a squadron down there trying to dismantle the weapons of the Death Star?"

"We could help!" Han butted in excitedly. "They're sure to need some help, and in return someone must be able to fix the hyperdrive."

"You know," he interrupted casually, "I _am_ a Doctor. I could probably fix this hyperdrive thingy for you."

"Yeah right," Han responded sarcastically, swivelling in his chair to flick the switches above his head. "You don't even know what one is. Next you'll be telling me that super ship of yours translates things."

"Well, now that you mention it…"

"Evasive action needed! Star fighters coming in hot!" At Luke's cry, Han broke off the conversation and once more jerked on the controls. The Doctor only just managed to grab hold of the chair and keep himself upright.

As the ship ploughed its way onto the planet below, the Doctor braced himself as the Falcon came to a shuddering stop, dirt covering the front in a great scattering. Letting out an explosive breath, all present sank into their seats – except the Doctor, who slid to the floor.

"Another happy landing," he muttered to himself, bouncing to his feet and racing to the door.

"You don't know what's out there," Leia called after him, her worry about his intentions obvious. With a sudden flash of his infectious (but dazzling) smile, the Doctor bounded out of the door gleefully, leaving a slightly flustered Leia in his wake.

Gazing around him in awe at the beauty of the planet, the Doctor marvelled at the dense forests surrounding the ship. They couldn't have picked a better spot… shame they weren't here for a picnic.

Staring at the sky in wonder, the Doctor failed to notice a small shadow slip from the protection of the door. In fact, he had just thought he saw some charming tree houses in the distance when he felt himself trip quite spectacularly over something near his feet. He landed with a thud on the – thankfully – soft ground.

"Omph!" the Doctor cried, looking about him in wonder. To his astonishment, a small creature stood in front of him, a long stick held threateningly in its paw.

"Oooh, who are you? I'm the Doctor," the man announced cheerfully, still on the floor. Somehow, being faced with something that looked suspiciously like a teddy bear meant the threat of danger seemed to disappear in a puff of logic. The creature muttered something intelligible under its breath and sprung back a few paces, cautiously poking the Doctor's arm with the end of its stick. Obviously a jumpy fellow then.

The door _shooosed_ behind him and three cautious figures emerged.

"Sith..!" Han Solo cursed, as he was sent sprawling over the Doctor who – having been too preoccupied with the over-sized cuddly toy – remained on the ground.

"Han!" gasped Leia, "Mind your language! There may be younglings around!"

Han grumbled an inaudible response as he picked himself up and dusted the leaves off his jacket. He sighed in resignation, "Right, let's find the squadron and get this party started."

"Don't let Jack hear you say that," the Doctor muttered, climbing to his feet, "He'd take it waaay too literally..." No one bothered to waste breath asking what the hell he meant. "Sooo, where are we going?"

"_We're _not going anywhere. You're staying here to guard the Falcon… anything happens to her and I'll teach you the meaning of pain!"

"You like pain?" the Doctor questioned, eyebrows disappearing, "Try wearing a corset…!" He grinned to himself; now that _was_ an interesting disguise!

Obviously ignored, the Doctor pouted as the others sped off into the trees. "Oh, they weren't kidding." Whistling softly to himself, the Doctor began to pace in front of the Falcon, strongly resisting the urge to nip aboard and give her a proper explore. Han hadn't said anything about not doing _that_, had he? Hearing a far off thud that sounded like a falling tree, the Doctor changed his mind. He never could resist investigating ominous noises…

Digging a hand into his pocket, the Doctor rummaged around for a moment, before his hand finally caught onto the object of his search. Pulling it out with a triumphant cry, the Doctor headed towards the thuds, peeling the banana as he went. Humming merrily to himself as he ate, he had just taken the last bite when something made him freeze mid-action.

Turning very slowly on the spot, the Doctor found himself face to face with a metal-looking-leg-thing. Letting his eye line roam upwards, the Timelord craned his neck backwards to take in the scale of the AT-ST Imperial Walker in front of him.

"Ah." Watching with an impressed expression, the Doctor winced at the nails-on-a-chalkboard grating noise as a component on the machine moved. Even more so at the sudden realisation that the moving thing was, in fact, some sort of gun now pointing directly at him. Slowly raising his hands – the banana skin clutched in one of them – the Doctor gestured he was surrendering. It always seemed a good idea not to get himself shot.

"Parley?" he asked, watching the gun prepare to fire. As the motor whirred to life, the Doctor quickly spun around.

"Or not. Byeeeee." Darting off into the trees, the Doctor wildly threw his hands out, feeling the banana skin fly out of his grip. He wasn't going to stop; after all, he was quite the expert at running away. He could stand and fight when he wanted too; it was just that at this moment in time, he simply didn't want too. Nothing at all to do with the fact he knew the sonic screwdriver wouldn't be able to help him against these giant machines, nor the fact he hadn't a TARDIS to run too. Nope, it was all to do with not wanting too.

However, despite not planning to stop, a resounding crash caused the Timelord to skid to a halt. The first Walker had just reached the edge of the trees, but then promptly stopped. Whipping around and watching it in surprise, the Doctor's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline as the giant slowly began to topple, before slipping completely backwards.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he cried, his hands flying up in front of him.

But that wasn't the end though. Ohhh no. On its journey, it somehow managed to crash into the one behind, which in turn repeated the whole process; the entire line was wiped out in minutes.

"How…?" Gazing around him in wonder, the Doctor slowly grinned, his eyes falling on an innocent looking banana skin sticking out from the edge of the first Walkers' foot. And people said bananas weren't good for you…

Luke, Leia, Han and Chewie suddenly burst into the clearing behind him, jaws dropping at the sight before them.

"How did… what did you…. how… WHAT?!" Han was clearly flabbergasted.

"Why, he used the force… look!" Luke pointed to the Doctor's hands, which were still outstretched with palms facing the fallen robots.

The Doctor looked from Luke, to his hands, and then to the AT-STs. "Oh no, I didn't- " he acted out a strange mime, "- really! It wasn't…"

"Ohhh, you!" Leia gushed. "You're so modest! Helping the Federation out like that and not taking the credit! Oh Han, isn't that nice? Han?"

"Yeah, yeah. Wonderful," he muttered dismissively, his attention focused on an unfamiliar yellow object at the foot of the first metal creature. A suspicious eyebrow was raised.

"Well, I am what I am, and what I am needs no excuses," started the Doctor, rocking on his heels with both hands now dug into his pockets. "So what if I love each feather and each spa-" He promptly cut himself off. _No wait_, he thought,_ that's more like Jack… _

Hmmm, maybe he shouldn't be gloating for something that he _technically_ didn't mean to do. After all, the Doctor never gloated. Nope, not him. Not ever. He coughed slightly, "Aaanyway…" Preparing to make a dash for it – the situation was getting _slightly_ embarrassing – the Doctor jumped when he felt something latch itself onto his arm like a limpet. Startled, the Doctor followed the arm with his eyes, feeling even more uncomfortable when he beheld Leia on the other end. She either had something in her eye and couldn't dislodge it, or something else was goi- oohhh. With a realisation what that look in her eye meant, the Doctor cleared his throat subconsciously. It really was time to be going. Looking around wildly, the Doctor truly _truly_ regretted the TARDIS wasn't around. He _really_ needed a quick escape…

Trying to hide his rather nervous swallow (Daleks? No problem. Cybermen? Sorted. Girls? Ahh...), the Doctor plunged his hand once more into his pocket, this time pulling out the famous sonic screwdriver. Or whatever they considered it to be. Twiddling it in between his fingers, the Doctor slowly frowned, a thought meandering its way into his head.

"What?" Han demanded rather suspiciously, the mysterious object still on his mind. Quite frankly, he didn't trust the look on the Doctor's face; it made him slightly uncomfortable. After all, he had just proposed his own brilliant plan for getting rid off the At-Sts, but noooo, no one listened to him anymore.

"I wonder…" the Doctor pondered thoughtfully, seemingly not having heard the rather rude demand.

"You have another plan?" Leia practically babbled, adoration shining in her eyes.

"There's only a 41% chance of success… but I need to try and get out of here," he added under his breath. The Doctor fixed his eyes skywards, locating the strange planet, or machine, or whatever it was he had landed in earlier… What he _did_ know was that his TARDIS was up there, and he needed her down _here_.

"Hang on," Han interrupted suddenly, following the Doctor's eye line and almost certain he knew what was going through the Timelord's head. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, then why didn't you do it before?"

"That depends precisely on what you think I'm thinking," the Doctor responded, choosing to ignore the flabbergasted expressions of the others as they tried to follow the conversation. "And in answer to your question, like I said before, there is only a 41% chance of this working."

To a stunned silence, the Doctor slowly raised the screwdriver into the air. With an agonising slowness, he extended the gadget out, flicked a setting and pressed the button. "Expelliarmus!" For one long moment, everyone held their breath, not precisely sure what they expected to happen. Han let out an amused snort when nothing seemed to occur, when suddenly… _BOOM!_ Blinking in surprise, the Doctor glanced towards the screwdriver, before looking up suddenly at everyone's cries of glee.

Fixing his eyes once more on the sky, the Doctor felt his own jaw drop at the fireworks that seemed to be littering the otherwise clear sky. Free of any Death Star, that was certain. Once more glancing at the screwdriver, the Doctor felt as though the words were going to stick in his throat.

"Did I..?"

"He did it! He did it!" Leia exclaimed suddenly, practically jumping up and down. "He destroyed the Death Star; he has saved us all from Vader." As the entire clearing erupted in cheers of delight, the Doctor felt himself being hugged by everyone all at once; even the teddy bears had somehow latched themselves onto his leg. And then, peering over Chewie's very hairy shoulder, he saw her.

Standing tall and proud in the clearing, the TARDIS materialised, the blue light winking down at him.

"Atta girl," the Doctor muttered, his face threatening to split in two at the grin he was now supporting. Feeling the small hands detach themselves from his leg, the Doctor glanced down, just in time to see all of the Ewoks bowing down to him.

"Yub yub. Yub yub yub."

"Err…thanks?"

"I don't _belieeeeve_ it!" cried C3P0 as he joined them, looking as crestfallen as his metal features would allow him. "I thought they were supposed to worship _me_?!"

"Worship?" the Doctor yelped. This trip had certainly been one for awkwardness. "I _really_ have to be going now."

"Oh don't go," Leia cried, also looking crestfallen.

"Yeah, we're all going to head off to the Cantina. Please, join us to celebrate?" Luke chipped in, his eyes pleading. Taking one look at them all, the Timelord came to his decision. One drink surely couldn't hurt…

"Awww, how nice of you!" grinned the Doctor.

Han gave him a hearty slap on the back and smirked. "Did I mention, the 'hero' buys the rounds…?"

The smile faltered, "Nope… nope, I _think_ that comment may have passed you by."

*****

"Three Intergalactic Gargle Blasters, two hypervodkas and two cans of machine oil please. Ohhh, go on then – chuck in a packet of chocolate fingers while you're at it…" The Doctor flashed his psychic paper, hoping it would get him out of paying. Wuher, the barman, nodded in approval and proceeded to meet the order. Phew.

Two rounds later, and he was well and truly hammered. The Doctor didn't look too good either. With another glass in his hand, the Timelord – staggering ever so slightly – made his way over to his new 'friends', who were clearly arguing over something…

"We have all been blind, yet the answer's been staring us in the face!" shouted Han, a hand slapping down on the bar-counter. "Don't you see? This man -" he pointed at the Doctor, whose head bobbed up behind Leia's shoulder, "- is an impostor!" An echo of gasps filled the room and Luke's jaw actually dropped in shock.

"What he used back there _wasn't_ the force! Ha, you can't even prove it exists! There's no empirical evidence! This whole 'force'," he wiggled his fingers in the air, "malarkey is just non-sense!" Han folded his arms and leant back, satisfied that he had won the argument.

"Ohhh, Ayer tried to explain this to be in 1935, buuut," the Doctor chipped in, "With a TARDIS that can defy gravity, I'm living proof his theory's ruuubbish…" He seemed to be slurring slightly. Blimey! He _was_ drunk! It was obviously a good party…

Luke rolled his eyes, "Oh, you're just jealous! If Jedi Master Doc-"

"Who? Ohhh, no. Please, just 'The Doctor' is fine…"

"-tor didn't use the force, what _did _he use? Hmmm?"

"A… a… yellow thing! Arghh," Han cried in frustration, "Trust me! He's an impostor!" He reached into his gun holster and produced a dangerous looking banana.

"What, one of those?" asked Luke, brows raised in amusement.

"Yes, one of…. Hey!" Han growled as the anger bubbled within him. He _really_ didn't like to be outsmarted.

The Doctor's eyes widened, "Err, right. I'll be off then!" He staggered slightly towards the TARDIS, patting his pockets for the keys. "Luke," he said, pointing a skinny finger at him, "Nice hair. Droids, play nicely. Han… Han… er… yeah. And Leia," the Doctor took her hand and kissed it gently, the princess blushing violently as she stared into his chocolate-brown eyes, "It would never have worked out between us, darling…" With a subtle skip in his step, the Doctor headed for his ship, oblivious to the array of expressions he'd left in his wake.

Before he closed the door behind him, the Doctor opened his mouth to say: _"You should always bring a banana to a party…" _but, on seeing the steam fire vertically from Han's burning-red ears, he thought better of it and made for a quick escape.

Dancing over to the console, the Doctor proceeded to hit random buttons and flick a few switches. "Beam me up, Scotty! Haha! Allons-y Mos Eisely!" Whistling _Copacabana_, the Doctor plonked himself down on the TARDIS sofa, swinging his legs up to rest on the edge of the machinery. He had, however, misjudged the angle, causing his foot to squeakily slide onto the big red button labelled: _'Whatever you do, do not press this big red button.'_

"Oops!" he winced but, on opening one eye, saw that nothing had changed. "Phew…"

The movement in the console column slowed as the TARDIS came into a bumpy landing. Jumping up and giggling to himself, the Doctor dug his hands into his trouser pockets and strode over to the TARDIS door – pushing it open with his foot. Stumbling into the room before him, the Doctor found himself eye-level with a banana.

Han Solo raised a cocky eyebrow, "As if you could out run me…"

"Ah."

**~ THE END ~**

Or is it…?


End file.
